


Consecrated Ground

by latesummerfire



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Falling In Love, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 02:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19736590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/latesummerfire/pseuds/latesummerfire
Summary: Crowley injures his feet rescuing Aziraphale and his books. Decades later, he finally allows Aziraphale to assess the damage.





	Consecrated Ground

**Author's Note:**

  * For [terryreviews](https://archiveofourown.org/users/terryreviews/gifts).



> this isn't beta'd, so please forgive any mistakes.

_ “Little demonic miracle of my own.” _

Aziraphale kept running those words through his mind as he stood there in a daze. His vision went blurry, he wondered if it was an after-effect of the bombing, or if he had tears in his eyes. He was too lightheaded to tell, his mind was swimming and his heart humming as he felt warm and fuzzy all over.

He loved the feeling. _Love_. It’s what angels were made of. He loved it even though it was all he felt his whole life, to the point where he hardly noticed it.

But to feel love towards Crowley … it was that simple act of kindness that broke the dam. It touched him to the core. It started a fire within his soul and he didn’t want to let that feeling go, whether it grew or not. He wanted to remember this and revel in it for as long as he possibly could.

“Come on, angel, we don’t have all day!”

Crowley’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, briefly. He soon sank back into that soft feeling as he struggled to move his feet in a vain attempt to follow after the demon, and promptly tripped over a large piece of burning debris.

Just lucky his demon was there to catch him, as he fell right into his gangly arms, the added weight of the bag of books not helping anyone.

He looked up at his savior, the firelight shining in just the right angle that he could see those beautiful golden eyes hidden under dark spectacles. Crowley’s brow furrowed in concern, and he grabbed the side of the angel’s face, causing him to gasp quietly, before the back of his hand laid on his forehead.

“Feeling alright, angel? Seem a bit shellshocked.”

“Y-yes, shellshocked, that … that must be it.” he laughed nervously, licking his dry lips.

Crowley’s eyebrows arched, and he winced, shifting from foot to foot as he turned away, keeping his one arm around the angel’s waist. He did so to prevent him from falling a second time, but Aziraphale in his addled state, well … it caused his heart to soar, and his skin to flush. He was thankful for the night, for it helped to hide him in his sorry state.

He was released once they reached the car and, immediately, he missed the warmth of the demon’s touch. He regretted this horribly.

They were, after all, an angel and a demon. They were on opposite sides. Consorting with one another was one thing, but romantic feelings? He’d certainly Fall. It was a wonder he hadn’t already. He began to wonder how he would know if he had. He never dared to ask Crowley how he Fell, or what it had been like. Crowley never brought it up, and so he naturally assumed it was a sensitive subject and decided it was best never to bring it up.

He slid into the front passenger side, his usual seat, making sure to place the duffle bag with the books between them, as a sort of reminder to himself to keep his distance. He needed to remember his place. Besides, Crowley didn’t like him, not like that. He was only being … _nice_.

But this confused Aziraphale now, more than ever. Surely, it was their Arrangement, to help each other out. But for Crowley to save the books for him, of all things … he didn’t have to do that. And now, there was a possibility it could be on the record. Hell would know he not only saved an angel but his personal property as well. And neither was to his own advantage. Well, unless … perhaps Aziraphale could even the stakes? Cancel each other out?

But how?

Crowley hissed as he floored it, speeding through the town, the sounds of planes overhead and bombs going off, and the people, oh the poor people … Aziraphale felt so selfish at that moment, for all he could think about was Crowley, and the way his face tensed up the further they got. He never hissed before, not without reason anyway.

Another hiss escaped through his gritted teeth, and he groaned.

“Bloody Germans!” he growled, a small cry escaping, “No, not Germans. It’s not all of them. Fucking _Nazis_!”

“Are you quite alright?”

“Mm fine!” he grunted, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

And then it hit the angel like a … well, like the bomb that hit the church. The church!

“Consecrated ground! Oh, _dearest_ , your poor feet-“

“I’m fine, angel.”

“You’re in pain, oh - pull over this instant!”

“I’m not in -“

“Pull _over_!”

Crowley only increased speed, gritting his teeth as the added pressure to his foot only increased the pain.

Aziraphale braced himself against the ceiling of the vehicle, tears brimming in his eyes as he thought about Crowley’s selfless act and the agony that it was now causing him for doing so. Not to mention what Hell might do to him if they found out.

“Crowley, please, you did me a favor, now let me-“

“Angel, it’s not a problem. I’m _fine_.”

“I could miracle -“

“And how would that look, if your side took notice? Healing a demon’s … _church burns_ , that just sounds so great on paper!”

The Bentley, which had been playing upbeat jazz music (possibly pleased with the fact that its owner just killed a bunch of Nazis and saved his angel friend) noticed the mood shift and gently tapered the music off into silence in the middle of a track.

They didn’t speak a word between them as the car rolled on into the night, the only sounds other than the engine were the planes overhead and bombs being dropped in the distance.

“At least let me look at them?” Aziraphale said finally as they pulled up in front of his book store.

Crowley snapped his fingers and the passenger side door swung open, catching the angel by surprise and tearing his gaze away for a moment. When he looked back, Crowley was handing him the bag, just as he did back atop the burning rubble.

Aziraphale gazed down and carefully grasped the small handle, purposefully brushing his thumb across his fingers in the process. He looked up and tried in vain to meet his eyes but those damn glasses … and that concentrated look he’s been giving lately with those eyebrows and slanted jaw, it was just so hard to read him without looking into his beautiful golden orbs … he cursed the day glasses were invented.

As it crossed his mind to take them off, Crowley spoke.

“Just go, angel. Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

He gave his hand a comforting squeeze before returning it to the steering wheel.

Aziraphale nodded, not bothering to hide the tears in his eyes, for Crowley had returned his gaze to the road anyway. Brokenhearted, he exited the car, and a part of him wanted to slam the door shut in his face, but he didn’t want to take it out on the Bentley. It wasn’t her fault.

The Bentley, however, had another idea, and unbeknownst to Aziraphale, had decided to stall a bit outside the bookstore, much to Crowley’s dismay. Eventually, she gave in to her master’s commands. But this was not before hitting the brakes hard as he floored the gas, causing the demon to smack his stubborn jaw into the dashboard.

Aziraphale had to pretend not to notice the difference in his companion’s gait for the years that followed. It was barely noticeable, for Crowley was just that good of an actor, but the angel noticed the slightest wince he’d make with every other step, and how he’d shift his weight from one foot to the other much more often than need be.

Still, he refused to address it, for he didn’t want to cause more of a rift between them. Crowley seemed to manage anyway over the years, and although Aziraphale hadn’t forgotten (how could he forget?) he learned to put it to the back of his mind.

That is until the apocalypse that never was came and passed, and they finally had some time to spend with one another without worry of being watched. 

For the time being, anyway.

* * *

The angel and the demon wanted to celebrate having avoided the destruction of their favorite planet, and decided to go on holiday down to the coast. Aziraphale wasn’t particularly fond of beaches, too much sand and sun for his liking. If it weren’t for talk of a restaurant on a pier, he wouldn’t have agreed to it. And it just so happens, a shore house had just miraculously become available.

They were sipping mimosas under a shared umbrella on the beach, reclining in their chairs and simply enjoying the nice breeze and the sound of the waves crashing on the nearby rocks. There wasn’t much sun to speak of, but that didn’t stop Crowley from donning his damned glasses, and so Aziraphale decided to wear some himself. 

Aziraphale’s sunglasses weren’t half as stylish, however. They were these clunky monsters he’d picked up years back without a second thought, simply out of necessity at the time. He’d just gotten through defending himself as the demon laughed at his poor fashion sense, pointing out the fake wood grain in the plastic.

Crowley was really one to talk fashion sense at the moment. He wore a simple pair of black silk swim shorts, his shoulders covered by a black silk robe but his chest lay bare for all the world to see, and Aziraphale was even more grateful for having worn sunglasses once he’d laid eyes on him. He couldn’t let his gaze linger, however - though they both could not see each other’s eyes, he swore Crowley knew he’d looked. He’d shot him an amused grin, to which he looked away, flustered.

But it wasn’t the shorts or the robe, or the lack of decent chest coverage. 

It was the damned knee-high socks and sandals.

Aziraphale may not keep up with the current fashion trends, but he did know that was a complete fashion-no-no.

He smiled smugly, ready to open his mouth and tease him about it, but then he remembered … and his stomach dropped. Seventy-nine years worth of guilt came flooding back to him.

“Did you … ever treat them?” he asked carefully, nodding to the demon’s feet, “After that night, the, um … consecrated ground business …?”

It was the first time he’d dared to bring up that day. It was not only the guilt he felt towards the indescribable pain he must’ve caused his dear friend, but to his own heart. He didn’t want to dredge up the love he felt for the demon that day, for he knew it could never possibly be returned.

Crowley raised a brow at him and smiled grimly, looking back to his feet. Aziraphale knew it was a sensitive subject, and he prayed that addressing it wouldn’t end like it did last time.

“I dabbled with a few things.” Crowley shrugged carelessly, “They’ve healed well enough.”

“Then why don’t you take off your socks?”

“The same reason you won’t take off that God-awful bathing suit. I’m doing it to annoy you.”

“For God’s sake, Crowley, you wouldn’t even let me take them off for that … bath,” he reminded, shuddering to recall their executions.

“Yesss,” Crowley remembered in a hiss, snake eyes peering dangerously at him over his sunglasses, “You didn’t peek at them, did you?”

“N-no, I didn’t, I … not … anything _else_ , either.” he added, blushing profusely, “Did _you_ peek?”

“I’m not the one who decided to unnecessarily get naked, angel.”

“I did not get naked!” The angel huffed, turning an even brighter red, and he decided to drop the subject.

“No.” Crowley replied finally, “No, I did not peek. I may be a demon but I do have respect for boundaries.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale nodded, an awkward smile crossing his lips, “Good.”

There was an uncomfortable silence that fell between them for a while, until Crowley continued casually, swishing his drink around in his hand as he gestured vaguely to nothing in particular.

“My feet are still a bit sensitive, that’s all.”

“Perhaps I could look at them …”

“I’d really rather you didn’t.”

“No one’s watching, not anymore,” Aziraphale reminded gently, “You mean to tell me after all these years, you still don’t trust me?”

Aziraphale couldn’t help the crack in his voice, and Crowley groaned in annoyance, relenting.

“How about this, then?” he decided, “I’ll take my socks off if _you_ change into some proper swimwear.”

“This _is_ proper swimwear!”

“You look like you’re ready for bed, bit redundant since I know you don’t sleep.”

“Well, I can’t very well go around shirtless like you. I don’t have your body.”

“You can have it if you want …” the demon offered with a devilish grin as he slunk back in his chair, gesturing to himself.

Aziraphale had to bite the inside of his cheek and look away. He really didn’t want to answer that question truthfully. Surely Crowley was only teasing to get a rise out of him. He’d done it before. He didn’t really mean anything by it … surely …

“Don’t be crude, Crowley.”

“I’m not being crude, _Aziraphale_ , you’re the one who wants my body.”

Aziraphale could’ve discorporated then and there.

“Do shut up.” 

“You had me once before.”

Aziraphale’s face grew hot, he pursed his lips, and he whipped his sunglasses off, folded them up neatly, and smacked him on the arm with them. Crowley jumped in surprise, hissing at the contact.

“I’m talking about the body swap!” Crowley snapped defensively, rubbing his arm.

“Do NOT change the subject, Crowley! Now show me your feet!” He ordered, and added in a gentler tone, “Please.”

“Not here. We’re in public.”

Aziraphale looked along the great expanse of the coastline, failing to see a single soul in sight aside from the two of them. He looked the other direction as well, his eyes eventually falling on his best friend, and he gestured vaguely around as the demon so often would.

“My dear, we are quite literally alone.”

“Ngh … prying eyes, you know,” he grumbled under his breath, “eyes everywhere.”

“No one’s watching us.” Aziraphale reminded, realizing it too in the exact moment he said it, “Not anymore. Not after what we pulled.”

“They’ll be back.”

“But for the time being …”

“Still rubs me the wrong way.”

Aziraphale complied and snapped his fingers, and they were both transported back to their hotel room.

Crowley groaned as he assessed his surroundings, “Oh, come on, angel, just drop it. I was enjoying myself out there. You know I love a good soak in the sun-“

Aziraphale cut him off by taking off his sunglasses with both hands, folding them up, and putting them in his pocket.

Crowley stared back at him with those golden eyes, those eyes that both intimidated and entranced the angel from the moment they met, six thousand years ago.

“There is no sun today, dearest.” Aziraphale said softly, raising his hand up to touch the demon’s shoulder, “Enough excuses.”

Without warning, he pushed Crowley backward and effortlessly caused him to fall onto the bed, losing his sandals in the process.

“Jolly good.” The angel said, downright pleased with himself, “Shall we get on with it then?”

“Get on with … it?” Crowley echoed weakly.

“Yes.”

Crowley blinked, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m _sure_ ,” Aziraphale said impatiently, as he sat beside him on the edge of the bed, just arms length away. He patted his thighs in anticipation.

Crowley could only stare back at him, mouth agape.

Aziraphale blushed, glancing furtively back at the bed as he realized where the demon guessed this was headed, giving his previous innuendos.

“Your _feet_!” the angel snapped, pointing insistently, before he took it upon himself and grabbed both his gangly legs up in a single swoop, so fast that Crowley fell flat on his back, nearly falling off of the bed.

“Way to be romantic, angel,” Crowley groaned, pulling himself upright with an annoyed huff.

Aziraphale shot him a pointed look before he carefully peeled back the demon’s socks, and he gasped at what he saw underneath.

“Bit of an overreaction, really,” Crowley sighed, “It’s not that bad.”

“Oh, dearest, you should’ve let me-“

“I said I wouldn’t.”

“I should’ve fought you harder!” Aziraphale argued, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

The scars licked up his feet from the tips of his toes upward towards his heel to his ankle. Even after all these years, it looked blistered as if it happened only yesterday. The sight of it brought tears to his eyes, which one might assume was due to the smell, but oddly enough, his feet didn’t smell, no more than a regular foot, anyway.

“Oh, my dear, does it … it looks like it still hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Only a little.” Crowley brushed off, “I’ve grown used to it.”

Aziraphale tentatively cradled his heel in his hand, pressing his palm gently to his skin, wincing as Crowley let out a small hiss in pain. He wanted to be gentle, but he needed to work quickly. When he removed his hand, the scars faded, still barely present but they looked a lot better than they used to. He moved down along his foot to his toes and did the same to the other foot.

Crowley must’ve assumed the angel was merely attempting a foot massage, for he leaped up suddenly, nearly kicking the angel in the face once he realized what he had done.

He pulled his feet away, dropping them back to the floor as he jumped at the angel, grasping him roughly by the shoulders, giving him a small but meaningful shake.

“Are you _mad_??” he hissed, his yellow eyes ablaze, “You shouldn’t have done that! They could—”

“We’re on our own side now, dearest …” he reminded softly, and Crowley’s grip loosened as his brow creased, “If there was ever a time to do it, it’s now, when they’re avoiding us. They’ll never know. I just wish you’d let me, all those years ago.”

Crowley shook his head, “I couldn’t risk it.”

“I know dear, it’s just … it’s foolish of me to have let you shunt me aside. You know I lo … _lost_ , almost lost my life, and you saved me during the Blitz. You woke from your slumber to save me, and my books. And this is how I repay you? Letting you suffer in silence for all these years?”

“You didn’t _let_ me do anything, angel. It’s not your fault.” Crowley assured, raising his hand to cup his cheek, but he stopped himself when Aziraphale’s brow creased in question, and he clapped his hand back on his shoulder, giving him a squeeze, “ _I_ went into that church for _you_ , to rescue _you_.”

“And the books,” Aziraphale added, nodding, “as part of the Arrangement-“

“ _Screw_ the Arrangement! It’s not about that, I did it because I _love_ you, you idiot!”

Aziraphale paled, which turned quickly into a blush, “Love?” he croaked out, searching his eyes.

Crowley groaned, remembering, as he threw himself back on the mattress “Too fast, right? Six thousand years too _fucking_ fast …”

Aziraphale clasped his hands together, looking down ashamedly.

“I’m so sorry, angel,” Crowley apologized sincerely, looking to the ceiling as he shook his head slightly “That was rude of me to say. Just know that I do love you. After all that’s happened, I just feel you should know. You don’t have to respond.”

Aziraphale was at a complete loss for words. Instead, he found himself relaxing down into the bed beside his best friend, his hands clasped around his middle. He felt Crowley turn to face him, watching his face, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at him.

“You shouldn’t say such things,” Aziraphale said finally.

“Why not?”

“Because I … I love you too.” He exhaled deeply as if he’d been holding his breath all these years. An enormous weight was finally lifted off his heart, and yet he still felt so sad, “But I’m also … in love … with you. And if you love me, as a - well, as one does, it’s not the same as being in love, now is it? So it just … that wouldn’t be fair … to you, or me.”

Crowley shifted closer till his knees brushed against the angel’s leg, and he carefully placed his hand over his on his stomach. Aziraphale’s breath hitched, and he grasped his hand back, rubbing his thumb across his knuckles, holding him tight.

“Aziraphale, I’m in love with you.”

The whole world felt as if it stopped at that moment. Aziraphale breathed softly, closing his eyes, causing the tears he wasn’t aware had formed to blink free from his eyes. Crowley’s warm slender fingers reached up and brushed them away.

“I love you, and I’m in love with you.” Crowley clarified, letting his hand fall to his chest,“I’m sorry I didn’t word it that way in the first place, I … didn’t want to burden you, make you uncomfortable …”

Aziraphale turned to face him, and within that turn, his lips found the serpent’s. He turned his body to face him completely, hands finding the lapels of the demon’s robe. He kissed him softly, carefully, and Crowley kissed him back in the same way, gentle and painfully slow as if he was afraid he’d frighten the angel away.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, wanted so desperately to make up for all those wasted years in that moment, so badly that he had to curl his fingers in the demon’s robe to keep himself from getting carried away.

They broke apart and stared at each other, and Aziraphale released Crowley, moving his hand to his cheek, flattening his palm between him and the mattress. Crowley leaned into the touch, sighing deeply, his eyes shut for a moment.

“I love you, dearest,” Aziraphale murmured, and Crowley opened his eyes, smiling.

“I love you, angel,” Crowley breathed, and welcomed the angel as he leaned in for a kiss, an even deeper one this time, not quite properly conveying his 6,000 years of secretly pining away for the demon, but still … it would have to suffice.

Aziraphale’s hands ventured downwards, unintentionally slipping past the robe and resting on Crowley’s bare chest. He broke the kiss and stared into his eyes, unsure what to do next.

Crowley smiled deviously, and in turn brought his own hands to Aziraphale’s chest, fingers slipping under the bathing suit strap. He pushed it aside, pressing a kiss to the angel’s freckled shoulder, eliciting a moan.

Crowley groaned back, but it was more in annoyance than anything else.

“Angel, I love you, but this damned … _water jumper_ of yours …”

“I wore one like it to your ‘execution’.”

“Oh, you didn’t.” Crowley whined, eyebrows knitted in pain, “Please tell me you didn’t. Now I hope they never take me back, I’ll be the laughing stock …”

“Well, I very well wasn’t about to go off in the undergarments you were wearing! If one could even call those undergarments. They were almost non-existent, Crowley!”

“So you did peek!” Crowley exclaimed, rather amused by this, “Liar!”

“I averted my eyes, Crowley! We figured they were going to do a holy dunking, and-“

“You could’ve just jumped in with my clothes on, I wouldn’t care.”

“It would’ve ruined them!”

“I could’ve just miracled them better.”

“You set me up and you know it! You tempted me to … strip you.”

“Oh really? Well, who’s tempted who now, here?” Crowley asked, gesturing between them, “You just used my injured feet as an excuse to get me into bed.”

“Who’s the one who rented a shore house with only one bed?” Aziraphale asked incredulously, echoing the demon in a bad imitation of his voice “ _Oh really_!”

“Little demonic miracle of my own,” Crowley said with a grin.

“Hardly a miracle.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, “Bastard,” he mumbled against his lips.

“Wily serpent,” Aziraphale countered, rolling over, pushing the now laughing demon into the mattress as he peppered him with kisses.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos and comments - criticism welcome but don't be too mean!


End file.
